Page 54 of The Invitation
She stops and waits for me to catch up. “What? Why did you slow down?”
“No reason.”
She glances at my fingers. “Oh. You just had your nails done. Okay, we can do something different.”
“Yeah, let’s do something different.” I force a swallow down my throat and start walking again. This conversation is headed toward employment, and it’s better if I get ahead of it and spin it. “Did I tell you I’m working for Sutton?”
“No, you did not.” She smiles, but it falters. “What happened to your job at the … where were you working?”
“For the last time, I was laid off months ago. We’ve been over this.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I keep forgetting.”
“Well, it’s not hard to remember.” I sigh in exasperation. “Anyway, because I was laid off from my last job and needed money, I took a position with Canoodle Productions. It’ll last a few weeks, but it pays well, and the perks are great.”
“What will you be doing?”
I race to devise a simple explanation and kick myself for not thinking this through before I brought it up. I don’t want to lie to her—not that she’ll remember any of this. But Nashville can feel like a small town, and one of her friends could see me somewhere with Ripley.
I would just have to hope they don’t know who Ripley is …
“Get this,” I say. “I’m filming a pilot for a reality show.”
“That’s so exciting!”
My smile grows at her genuine response. “It is, kind of. I get to go on dates that Canoodle pays for and film it.”
“With multiple men or just one?”
“Just one.”
We get to my car, so I unlock the doors, and we climb in. Mom nearly hits me in the head with her bag as she tosses it in the back seat.
“What’s he like?” she asks as I start the engine.
“Well …”
I look over my shoulder and back out of the parking space. My face is warm when I face forward, so I blast the air-conditioning in the car to hopefully hide my flush.
“He’s handsome,” I say, using adjectives to describe Actor Ripley and not Real Ripley. “He’s … smart. Charming.” I pause as I search for a word besidesfake. “He seems very loyal.”
“That’s what I’m talking about. That’s exactly what you should be doing in your life. Dating around. Having fun. Meeting men and enjoying them. I love this for you, Georgia.”
“I’m really just helping Sutton out of a bind.”
“I think this is the spark you need to get off your couch.” She grabs the door handle like I’m about to wreck into the car in front of us. “I know you just dated … dammit. What was his name?”
“Donovan.”
“Yes, Donovan. He didn’t put any sparkle, any pizzazz into your life. Maybe this new gig you have going on will do that for you.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
We drive quietly toward my mom’s house. She plays on her phone, and I think about my lost pizzazz. I disagree with her in theory. I still feel pretty damn pizazzy. But I know what she means, and she’s not totally wrong.
Last night, I felt a little more alive than I have in weeks. So maybe this is the spark I need to propel me forward. This might be the path to dreaming again.
The sound of Ripley’s laughter streams through my ears. I can see his face, feel his hand on the small of my back, and his breath against my ear.
